


Tony with a Y

by JasperMoar



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Gen, It's just something to tide you over, Nonbinary Tony, This was written last February/January when I was trying to figure out how to come out to my parents, Transgender Tony, and not very exciting, if you absolutely need something from me until the main stuff is updated, it's personal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 10:37:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17723588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JasperMoar/pseuds/JasperMoar
Summary: Tony knew fairly early on that she wasn’t quite… right. The other girls in her private school would gather around, in third grade and onwards. Hold books to their chests. It was a mark of pride when the book wouldn’t press flat anymore.“I’m almost a woman,” one girl might say, strutting around in the bathroom as her friends giggled and held their own books. Tony tried doing it too, once, in the privacy of her bedroom. The book sat flat, and she hadn’t ever been more relieved in her life.Written last January/February when I was trying to figure out how to come out to my parents.  It's personal, and not very exciting, but if you absolutely have to have something to read by me, this is all I've got until I have time to write something new in the main fics.





	Tony with a Y

**Author's Note:**

> This is for you guys who want to read something, anything during my dry spell. I have a challenging course load this semester, and I really want to put everything I have into bringing up my GPA, so writing is having to take a back seat. Here's one of my private works from over a year ago, dragged up from a personal folder I never really intended to share but decided to anyways, just to get something out there.

Tony knew fairly early on that she wasn’t quite… right. The other girls in her private school would gather around, in third grade and onwards. Hold books to their chests. It was a mark of pride when the book wouldn’t press flat anymore. 

“I’m almost a woman,” one girl might say, strutting around in the bathroom as her friends giggled and held their own books. Tony tried doing it too, once, in the privacy of her bedroom. The book sat flat, and she hadn’t ever been more relieved in her life. 

She remembers being angry, so angry, and unhappy, and upset because she wasn’t allowed to do the boys’ dances in her dance class. She didn’t understand. Why couldn’t she do whatever dances she wanted? Why did she have to be relegated, stuffed into the role of ‘girl’? Why couldn’t she just do, just be, what she wanted? She never made a fuss, just let it stew inside.

Tony remembers shopping for a dress to wear for the dance-class social. Her mother took her, and she found such a pretty, flowy red dress.

“You’ll have to put these on if you wear that dress,” someone said- she doesn’t remember who- but they said it so warmly. That someone was holding out pads for the dress’s chest. Tony remembers taking the pads and looking at them with horror. She didn’t want them. Didn’t want _anything_ like breasts. Even fake things. Like padding.

“No thank you,” she replied, handing the pads back. “I’ll find another dress.”

She remembers having her hair cut short on an impulse. Sitting in the salon with her mother, looking through magazines, seeing a full-grown woman with cropped hair.

“I want that,” Tony remembers saying. Howard wasn’t exactly pleased, when his wife and daughter returned, but he didn’t say anything. Tony was grateful. She loved her short hair.

What she didn’t like was how grown-up it made her look. So she let it grow again. She was a child, after all. She was in no rush to change that. 

Tony remembers standing between racks of clothing, shopping for school clothes with her mother. She remembers wandering off, just out of sight, and crying. Of hiding between the racks, looking into a mirror to make sure her face didn’t redden too much, her eyes didn’t puff. Why couldn’t she be good at being a girl? 

Every single thing. Every blouse and sweater and wrap. Every scarf and skirt and dress and jacket, made her look- made her look like a _girl_ , and she _hated_ it. 

She would dry her tears, though, and go to the bathroom to pat her eyes with cold, damp paper towels, and go back to her mom. She would pick the things she felt comfortable in. Mostly, she would wear t-shirts. T-shirts were, are, for everyone. 

She remembers when the book wouldn’t lay flat anymore. At first she didn’t really care. But she grew older, and then she couldn’t help but care. She remembers staring at herself in the mirror, pressing her breasts flat, wishing they would just _go away_. 

She remembers having her hair cut short the second time. She remembers thinking ‘I’m free’. 

People called her ‘sir’ sometimes, especially when she wore her coat buttoned up. It was always thrilling. So exciting, to be seen as something other than ‘girl’. She remembers getting ahold of button-down shirts- _men’s_ shirts- because the fabric was nicer. She remembers fixing them to fit her. 

She remembers researching mastectomies. Dreaming, dreaming, that someday, somehow, she could put her name down, and be free of that as well.

She remembers her mother sitting her down and saying, “Antonia, if you’re transgender, you can tell me. If you’re a boy, I’m fine with that. I love you, Antonia, and I always will.”

Tony remembers being so offended. How could she assume such things! Short hair and button-down shirts and ties didn’t mean Tony was a boy, for christ’s sake!

Tony looks back on that now, and laughs. How did her mother know? She wasn’t completely correct. After all, Tony isn’t a man. But she is, without a doubt, transgender.

It took her awhile to figure it out. She remembers trying on the identity of ‘boy’ for size, and rejecting it nearly immediately. She remembers being confused, and sitting down to cry in the shower, because _why_ couldn’t she just be a girl? At least then there wouldn’t be this- this- this _nothingness_.

And then, she remembers learning what it meant to be ‘nonbinary’. 

It was quite by accident. A word seen on the internet. Consumed and dismissed like multitudinous other things. And yet…

And yet.

Tony remembers that it took a year for her to accept the word as hers. Finally, something that _fit_. Like getting the long piece in Tetris, when you’ve set everything else up perfectly, and four rows vanish in one go. A match. 

Tony remembers buying her first binder. A gamble, given the near-certain side-effects and health-risks of binding, but oh-so worth it. She remembers careful research, to know the safety and the how. She remembers pulling her shirt back on and grinning at herself in the bathroom mirror, her chest finally, _finally_ flat again. Not perfectly, but enough. It was enough. 

The binders still hurt her back, still make it hard to breathe if she has to walk distances, but it’s worth the pain every time. 

She remembers sitting down with Pepper and Rhodey, of telling them her name isn’t Antonia. It’s really just- just Tony. Tony with a ‘y’. She remembers the quiet, consuming joy she felt and feels every time they call her Tony. Somehow she can tell- Tell that they're saying Tony with a 'y'.

And she dreams, still. She dreams of a driver’s license with her real name on it. She dreams of two scars on a flat chest, of pills to stop her cycle. She dreams of a christmas ornament with her name on it, of her family at her back, ready to help her stand as she is. She dreams of being able to sign ‘Tony Stark’ in her rapid, sleek handwriting. She dreams of being known.

Tony doesn’t know how long she’s spent trying to find the words. She has a notebook full of ideas, of how to tell Howard, to tell Maria. That’s not even to mention the rest of the world. She’s tried writing a poem. A song. An essay. A letter. She’s even considered building a robot to deliver the news. 

She doesn’t know what to say. How to say it. When. Where. 

But she has to. For her own sake, she _has_ to.

**Author's Note:**

> So Tony here is nonbinary, but she uses 'she/her' pronouns b/c she knows if she gets used to people she cares about calling her 'they', then it'll hurt a hell of a lot worse when people decide nope, they're just going to call her 'her'. Sort of a self-defense thing.  
> And I know it's sort of divisive, whether a nonbinary person can be considered transgender, but what the fuck ever. I wrote this for myself, not to be divisive.
> 
> If you're reading this but you're waiting for the other three works in progress (4, if you count Beauty and the Beast) know that I'm working on them. Slowly but surely.


End file.
